Ten pm rolled around and I turned the OneBox from ‘entertainment’ to ‘light’ in preparation for bed. I wheeled to the sink and nestled my chair into the puddle. Water fought its way out the tap whilst I stared into the mirror. The same fraction of a second repeated over and over. Suddenly, I caught up with time and realised I’d zoned out again. I had to bring it up with Mr Fielding at our next appointment. After brushing my teeth I clambered into bed. “OneBox: off.” The bright screen died. The room captured the blackness, and I fell asleep. That night I dreamt of Bangolai. I wrapped my mashed up leg in bed sheets and dragged myself into the corner of the bunker. Bullets pelted everything outside, the rattle of metal on concrete muffled over the bangs and screams. My leg was like unravelled rope, letting blood out to soak through my DIY bandage. It felt like an eternity, flitting between the door and a fallen wall with a pistol in my hands. All the other bunks were empty except Behlon’s. A bullet had burnt a hole through his skull. It smelt like burnt porridge and nearly made me sick. A Bangolian ran through the hole into the room and I squeezed the trigger twice. The run became a fall and his body collapsed motionless on the rubble. I stared at the body, vacant and still. There was another bang and time slowed down. Someone grabbed me so I lunged at them with a clenched fist and closed eyes. The pain across my knuckles woke me up. I’d punched a hole into the soft wall by my bed. I sat up and tried to regain control of my breathing. The red light of my OneBox stared into my eyes. “OneBox: alarm off.” I laid back down in the dark and waited for the sun to rise. After hours of struggling to get to sleep the sun finally rose... ... middle of paper ... .... A voluntary agent? “Yes, of course, sir. But didn’t you say I should try to avoid leaving the house?” “Without purpose.” Mr Fielding slowly got out of his seat, “going on meaningless walks is detrimental to health. It will give you undeserving stress. I’ve gathered enough evidence to come to the conclusion that you need reason. If you have a purpose to fill your mind then you won’t resort to bringing back all these horrible memories.” Mr Fielding moved over to the door and opened it for me, “so will you be accepting my offer?” “Of course, sir. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.” Mr Fielding smiled, “I’ll send you notes via the OneBox, on areas, events and people that you should try to investigate.” I wheeled up to the door and shook his hand, “Good luck, Logan.” “Thank you, sir.” When I rolled out of that office, I felt like a new man. An agent for the PLP.
“The southern plains were the best dam*ed countries God’s sun ever shone upon” (John L. McCarty). This is a famous quote from the famous founder of the dust bowl historic Last Man’s Club, John L McCarty. His club was a very potent organization that united America in a very dark time. It helped the farmers of the dust bowl area/era stay in a safe haven with their peers. The Last Man’s Club was an outrageous mutual support group which united the American citizens in a very dark page of American history.
I was thrown at the door and my heard a crunch to my right, but felt no pain because my whole body was numb to death. I tried to grab something I couldn’t move. I told myself calm down, calm down, calm down but my body and brain were frozen.
You groggily slid your eyes open, slowly sitting up and blinking around in search of the annoying contraption. It was marginally harder to see anything without the aid of your glasses, and turned searching into a game of guessing what this or that blurred object was. It turned out that somewhere in the night, you'd managed to knock the clock into the incredibly small crack between your bed and the table, ad you had to fish it out with your
Jenna! I couldn’t tell who was trying to wake me up. Jenna! Why were they in my room? Jenna! I feel started to feel like there was an anchor pulling me down to the ground. Jenna! I opened my eyes only to realize that I am was not in my room, but under a desk. Miss White was crouched down in front of me and telling kids to move the desks so the nurse could bring the wheelchair in. My head was being split open. I couldn’t focus on what was happening around me.
As all of this was taking place, I was frozen. Something strange was happening to me. It was as if every single cell in my body was screaming at me to move, yet I still remained stuck in place. My heart beat rapidly, my breath quickened and everything around me slowed to a crawl. I drew my pistol. The last thing I remember was clearing leather and raising my
Gasping in terror I awoke and shot to my feet. He was gone, but where, how long had I been here and ...
Almost as if in response, the heart gave one, tremendous pulse. My entire body shook and I — not knowing whether death or a real second chance awaited me — blacked out, ready to take on anything.
They pushed us into a big white room and I began to blink because the light hurt
Timmy relieved me, sending me off to bed. It was nearly midnight and I was really sleepy. Dean was snoring under a blanket on the floor. I pulled the remaining blanket over myself and laid my head on a musty-smelling pillow. The floor was hard, but at least it wasn't lumpy. My mind continued
The third maddening buzz of my alarm woke me as I groggily slid out of bed to the shower. It was the start of another routine morning, or so I thought. I took a shower, quarreled with my sister over which clothes she should wear for that day and finished getting myself ready. All of this took a little longer than usual, not a surprise, so we were running late. We hopped into the interior of my sleek, white Thunderbird and made our way to school.
A metallic ringing woke me from my sleep, or rather rest; I don't think I ever actually fell asleep. I opened
As I regained my consciousness, my face was throbbing with pain and my nose was bleeding. I tried to clean the blood off my face, but realized my hands and legs were tied up. I sat upright and looked around me. My house was a mess; everything was either broken, or gone. . . . I had been robbed.
Open the fucking door, before I shoot you,” she yelled. The pressure on the door loosened. Holding my position on the floor, I couldn't do anything but watch the monitor, and pray he would save me once again. Brian yelled something I was unable to decipher, and drew his pistol. A shot rang out in the silent lobby the instant he disappeared from view. A body thumped to the floor, followed by a deafening silence. The only sound was my labored breathing, and I forced myself to concentrate on each breath. Please let him be okay, I repeated like a mantra. This nightmare had to be over soon, but in that moment the only thing that mattered to me was Brian’s safety. If it was his body crumpled on the floor, wearing a bullet meant for me, I wasn't sure how I could live with myself. I pulled my knees to my chest, buried my face in my hands, and sobbed
I woke up to the pungent smell of hospital disinfect, invading my nostrils. The room was silent apart from my heavy breathing and the beep beep sound you often hear in hospitals that indicates you're alive. I slowly opened my eyes, squinting in attempt to sharpen the blurred images before me. I glanced around and took in the deserted, blue and white colour schemed hospital bedroom. How long have I been here? I shut my eyes, trying to remember what had exactly happened. Then it all hits me with a bang. The memory of it all starts to occupy my thoughts.
After a quick breakfast, I pulled some of my gear together and headed out. The car ride of two hours seemed only a few moments as I struggled to reinstate order in my chaotic consciousness and focus my mind on the day before me. My thoughts drifted to the indistinct shadows of my memory.